“What good would that have done? It would have arrived the next day, then everyone’s holiday would have been ruined,” she said without flinching.
Anxiety etched his face in an expression that told of his true regard for her. Her dear brother had worried about her. Her resolve melted at causing him pain. He knew she was weakening, because he slowly raised an eyebrow.
Guilt raised its hand wanting her undivided attention, but she refused to be swayed. She raised one brow of her own in answer to the challenge. “As soon as you or Claire read the missive, you’d have dropped everything and come for me. I didn’t want that.”
He leaned toward her and rested his elbows on his knees. “Why didn’t you come to Pemhill on your own?”
“There were no drivers or groomsmen who could accompany me,” she answered.
“Come now, Daph. You could have borrowed a coach from Langham Hall—”
“I considered it.” Abruptly, she stood and began to pace in front of the fireplace. The soft crackling of the fire encouraged her to continue. “But it would have been too humiliating.” She stopped her steps and, with a sharp turn, faced him. Anger stirred her thoughts like a witch’s brew. “My own family forgot me.”
He ran a hand down his face. “I apologize. Claire was beside herself when she discovered you were here. Mother was frantic. When she and Renton stepped into the Pemhill entry, she immediately asked where you were.” A smile tugged the corners of his lips. “She missed you, Daph. Just like we all did.” He stole to her side and embraced her. “What did you do to occupy your days?”
“I worked on my charity.” Moreover, she spent an inordinate amount of time in the company of a charming duke.
“Daph, I thought we’d settled that idea.” He leaned back, and his eyes swept her face as if taking inventory again. “What about your work at Emma’s bank and Claire’s charities?”
“You make my point about me being responsible for my own happiness. Those institutions are their dreams.” She smiled. “I need my own. I have to follow my own desires.”
“I still don’t approve.” His voice grew deeper. “It’s unseemly for a woman of your stature to have a home for unwed mothers.”
“If not me, then who, Alex? Perhaps my stature is perfect, and people will accept it because of my place in society. These women shouldn’t be hidden away as soiled goods. They and their children deserve a place where they’re safe and wanted.”
“This is madness,” he huffed.
“If it’s madness, then I want to create a Bedlam for them and for me.” She wouldn’t back down, not now and not ever. “Besides, it’s my life.”
“It’s your life, but you’re my little sister.”
“Who is twenty-five,” she added.
“I don’t care if you’re ninety-five. You’ll always be my little sister.”
“No matter how old I am, you’ll always see me as such.” The graveness on his face told her that the point had been well-taken. It was the perfect segue into introducing the duke. “I met Southart several times over the holiday.”
Immediately, that infuriating brow of his shot skyward.
“He’s bidding on the same property as me. Once I informed him I was interested, he kindly told me he’d withdraw his bid.” Things were proceeding quite nicely, since Alex continued to remain calm.
“Daph, anything Southart’s involved in you should walk away from. Let me correct that. You should run from. He destroys everything he touches.”
“Why would you say that?” Her tone was a tad too defensive for her own tastes.
“I’ll explain,” he said. “How much was his bid?”
“Three times the asking price.”
“And what is yours?”
“What the owner originally asked.” She let out a breath.
“There’s your proof.” Alex shook his head slightly. “Even if Southart’s bid isn’t accepted, he’s muddied the waters for you. The owner will never accept asking price now.”
“That’s harsh, Alex. I found the duke to be a perfect gentleman.” Her trepidation had started to grow stronger. If she didn’t tell him about today now, she might lose her courage. “I invited him to breakfast this morning along with Mr. Devan Farris.”
His gray eyes, a mirror copy of hers, narrowed. Instantly, the room’s temperature dropped. The effect seemed to have frozen her words. Alex leaned close until mere inches separated them. “Daph, how stupid do you think I am? You invited him here to deliberately provoke me for leaving you in London.”
“On the contrary, I find you annoyingly intelligent.” She refused to blink but exhaled in preparation for battle. If he wanted a war, she would be more than delighted to fire the first shot. “But I do believe you’re quick-tempered and have a tendency to jump to the wrong conclusions. I didn’t invite him for any nefarious reason. He was kind to me, and I didn’t want to spend the day alone. It was perfectly harmless.”
“Harmless? I think not. You’re entertaining a known rakehell alone while I’m away? That’s a scandal in itself.” He prowled away from her and poured a fingerful of Claire’s family whisky. In one swallow he devoured it, then poured another in a new glass. “Did you ever think of the consequences?”
“What consequences? Now you’re overreacting. The duke’s friend, Mr. Farris, joined us. He’s a vicar. How scandalous could it be? William was here, too,” she added.
He held the glass to her, but she shook her head. She needed every wit she possessed to survive this quarrel.
“How long was he in my house?” He’d softened his tone, a warning to proceed carefully.
“William?” She swallowed and tried to find her courage, which had decided to slink from the room.
His stare had grown even more intense, if that was possible.
“The duke was here for only a couple of hours.” Her knees knocked together. Somehow, she found her courage again. Instead of retreating, she stood still with her chin tilted in defiance.
“I cannot fathom that he was in my house.” The incredulity in Alex’s voice would have been comical if they weren’t discussing Paul.
“It’s my house, too,” she countered.
Silence again descended between them.
“Since when did you become the Marquess of Pembrooke?”
His enunciation made her squirm. Like the time she’d gone swimming at Pemhill and found leeches stuck to every inch of her legs and arms.
“It’s my house, and I say who’s welcome and who’s not.” His quiet tone didn’t hide the warning in his voice.
“Fine. It’s your house,” she answered calmly. “I’ve decided to find my own residence. Though it’s Boxing Day tomorrow, I’ve an appointment with Mr. Fincham.”
“My solicitor needs a reminder of who he works for.” Alex’s retort flew across the room.
She stopped the fidgeting of her hands and fisted them by her sides. She’d come too far to give up her new visibility. “He’s worked for the family for years. Not just you. I’ve instructed him to start a search for a small townhouse. I thought perhaps to lease at the beginning, and if it suits my needs—”
“A proper young woman doesn’t live alone.” He was getting angrier if the muscles tensing in his square jaw were any indication.
“A spinster does. Besides, I don’t answer to you.” Had she really said that?
“Daphne,” he growled.
“You’re home.” The sweet, dulcet voice of her darling sister-in-law, Claire, came from the doorway. She rushed to Daphne and embraced her. “Oh, my word, we were so worried. Thank heavens you’re safe.”
“Claire, you made excellent time.” Alex’s demeanor immediately calmed when he saw his wife. A ghost of a smile even teased his lips. Such was the effect of true love. It could calm the most savage beast.
Claire kissed Daphne on the cheek, then went to Alex. She kissed him briefly on the mouth, then took his hand in hers. “Let’s all sit and discuss this like civilized people.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, darling.” Alex pulled Claire close to him.
“I agree with Alex,” Daphne announced with a smile. “There’s no discussion necessary. I’m establishing my own residence.”
“Now wait,” he said.
“Alex, hear me out. You make decisions all the time that impact my life without any consideration of me. I’ll be the first to admit you’ve done a marvelous job looking out for my welfare. However, the time has come for me to make those decisions. I want to control my future.” Whether it was her newfound mettle or Paul’s friendship made little difference. She wouldn’t capitulate to Alex’s wishes. She brushed her gown, straightening the wrinkles. “I’m twenty-five years of age and wealthy in my own right. It’s time I live my life the way I want. I look forward to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ll go to my room. I’m in the middle of a particularly exciting novel.”
“Stop, Daph. We’re not finished here.” Alex’s voice had softened, but there was little doubt it was because of Claire’s influence.
“Yes, we are.” Daphne walked to the door, then turned. “It’s lovely to see you, Claire. Happy Christmas.”
“I must tell the whole sordid tale to Mother,” Alex warned.
“If you don’t tell Mother, I will. I’ll start with how I was left alone in London by myself. I’ll tell her how the Duke of Southart visited me daily to ensure I was safe while my family celebrated Christmas.” Daphne never let her gaze stray from her brother. With each word, her conviction grew. “I’ll finish by telling her how I invited him to Christmas breakfast so I wasn’t alone.” She opened the door but turned back to Alex. “One more thing. Tait no longer works for you. I’ve hired him as my new butler.”
She didn’t wait for Alex’s reaction but continued to the family quarters. Her decision was steadfast.
Chapter Sixteen
As Paul waited for his groomsmen to arrive with news about Garland and the journal, he considered Devan’s argument that Daphne had to stand up for herself. It had merit, yet that didn’t diminish the trepidation Paul had experienced. All of this was new to him. In the past several years, he’d spent the majority of his time thinking of only himself and Robbie. Mayhap, the explanation was simple. His responsibility for the duchy had changed his awareness to encompass more concern with the world around him.
The idea didn’t soothe any of his restlessness. All morning, he kept thinking of Daphne. More than anything he’d wanted to keep worry from marring her beautiful face. What he wouldn’t give to see her smile once more.
A quick knock on the study door broke his reveries. “Enter.”
The footman Carter opened the door. “Your Grace, there’s a woman asking to see you,”
“Show her in.” Half-hoping it was Daphne, Paul suppressed his surprise when he saw the cook from the Reynolds. Elsie Qulin stood outside the door with her hands clasped in front of her without the boy and without the journal. “Come in, Miss Qulin.”
Slowly, she made her way inside, then dipped a curtsy. The scarlet hue of her cheeks foretold bad tidings. “Your Grace.”
“Did you find the boy or the journal?” he asked.
She shook her head. “When Garland wasn’t waiting for me outside my boardinghouse, I took a stroll into Seven Dials. Mind you, I didn’t go far as I’m not that foolish. But I found a young boy and asked if he’d seen the lad.” She rubbed her forehead with her hand and looked in the direction from where she came. “There’s not been a sighting or peep from him, I’m afraid.”
Paul reached into his pocket and withdrew another guinea. “Thank you, Miss Qulin. Please keep me informed when you find him. I promise no harm will befall Garland at my hands.”
She gingerly accepted the coin with a bow of her head. “I’ll have Gilby send a runner as soon as I find Garland. This is the longest he’s stayed away.”
“Gilby?”
“The Reynolds majordomo.” She studied her hands again and sighed. “He wanted me to tell you that you should keep Lady Moonbeam away from the Reynolds. Mr. Richmond has been asking about her.”
Paul nodded. Mr. Gilby wouldn’t have to ask twice. If Paul had anything to do with it, she’d never get near Martin Richmond or the Reynolds again. “Thank you, Elsie.”
“Good day, Your Grace.” With a quick curtsy, she took her leave.
Bloody hell.
He rang the bell, and immediately Ives entered. “Your Grace?”
“I’ll not wait for Warren or Joseph to return from the butcher’s. I’ll go to them.” He folded his reading spectacles, then laid them on his desk. “We’ll take a stroll through Seven Dials if need be.”
The butler’s white eyebrows shot straight up. “Is it that serious, sir?”
“I’m afraid so.” Daphne’s reputation was in danger, and he’d allowed it to happen by escorting her to the Reynolds. God, would there ever be an instance where his good intentions didn’t turn into shambles?
His coach-and-four made excellent time through the streets of London, since there was little traffic on the roads because of Christmas. Soon, the carriage stopped in front of Hamlin’s Butcher Shoppe, the purveyor for the Reynolds and other London gambling establishments.
The coach door opened, and Paul stepped out into the street. Immediately, his groomsmen, Warren Judge and Joseph Campbell, made their way to his side.
“Your Grace,” they said in unison.
“Anything?” Paul held his breath, praying for news.
Warren took off his wool cap and shook his head.
Joseph narrowed his eyes and glanced down the street as if still searching. “The boy never appeared. I think he’s in hiding.”
Warren nodded his agreement. “Your Grace, I searched Seven Dials this morning asking for a chore boy for the day. I got a lot of willing lads, but no one named Garland.”
“I’ll take one of you and search for the boy myself while the other stays here.” Paul slapped his gloves gently across one palm in frustration. “He has to be found.”
“Tell him,” Joseph said.
Warren dipped his head. “I hope you’re not angry, but I took matters into my own hands. While I strolled through Seven Dials, I asked if anyone knew the lad. No one came forward. I even offered a reward if anyone could help me find ’im. I said no harm would come to ’im. Only that the Duke of Southart had a need for a stableboy or two, and Garland had expressed an interest earlier. So far, the boy hasn’t come out of hiding.”
Paul exhaled. “That’s quick thinking. I’m sure you’re both cold and tired.”
Both men shook their heads.
“We don’t mind, sir,” Warren said.
“Your wages are doubled this month, then.” His men were loyal and deserved a reward for all their efforts.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Joseph said. “I’ll send the extra home. My mum will be surprised.”
“Aye. That’s generous of you, Your Grace,” Warren added.
The appreciation in both men’s faces told Paul he’d made the right decision. Perhaps being duke was something he could manage after all. “Keep me informed of anything you learn.”
Paul took one step into his carriage, then stopped. Down the street, a black lacquered carriage with the Pembrooke seal painted on the side pulled to a stop. With his greatcoat billowing behind him, he made his way to meet it. A woman with a black hat and veil elegantly stepped down. Her smart overcoat emphasized her lean but lush figure.
He exhaled a deep breath. He should have known his Moonbeam would take matters into her own hand.
When he reached her side, she tilted her face to his. The veil was an excellent cover, but he could see the silver of her gray eyes begging for information. He could see the red hue of her plump lips, the ones that enticed him to kiss her senseless. They were the same ones that caused him to lose all sensibleness.
“Paul, did Garland—” she asked. The tentativeness in her voice made him want to take her in his arms and never let go.
“Not here. Get in the carriage,” he said.
The brusqueness in his voice made her start. Without a quarrel, she climbed back in the carriage, and he followed her in. She sat straight as a ramrod. The defensive gesture tugged at something deep in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to ease her concern, but he had nothing to offer except the truth.
“Do you have the journal?” She lifted the veil from her face, making her whispered voice clear enough to hear the apprehension that tinted every word.
“No. My men haven’t seen him, and they searched Seven Dials. They even offered a reward for information. Elsie stopped by my house. She can’t find the boy either,” he answered. “He didn’t meet her where he usually does.”
Her hand flew to her stomach as if the breath was knocked out of her.
Instinctively, he reached over and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry, Daphne.”
“What if he’s hurt or ill?” Her gray eyes impaled him, and he was unable to look away. “Take me to Seven Dials. We must find him. Not just because of the journal, but I’d never forgive myself if he’s lying in a gutter somewhere.”
“Out of the question. You wouldn’t last five minutes in that part of town without being robbed or stabbed.”
The downcast look on her face transformed into a mutinous tilt of the chin. For some odd reason, he enjoyed her rebellious streak.
“I’ll find a proper escort. Never worry.” She settled into the seat and stared at him.
“Daphne.” When she didn’t move, he closed the distance between them until mere inches separated them. Those strawberry lips taunted him to taste. He slowly took a breath.
“No more excursions.” He lowered his voice. “Let me explain. Martin Richmond is asking about you. He wants to know who Moonbeam is. If he finds out your true identity, you’ll not only face ruin, but your entire family will be impacted by your behavior.”
“If Garland is capable, he will find Elsie,” Daphne protested. “She’s all he has. I’ll stop by the Reynolds early in the morning when she leaves work. No one will recognize me.”
“It’s too dangerous. You can’t go back there. The last time we ventured into the establishment, we were almost caught by Richmond, remember?” He certainly recalled the last time. He’d held her arms as he watched her writhe and grind against his leg until she climaxed. A sudden onslaught of desire heated his blood, but he tamed the beast as best he could. This woman turned his insides out.
The Good, the Bad, and the Duke Page 18
